


Small

by ashisfriendly



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Couch Sex, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post finding out about triplets smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small

_But she’s so small._

That’s all Ben can think about for days.

Every time he looks at her, he thinks of the three babies inside her, growing and pushing her organs and stretching her skin. He thinks of how huge her stomach will get and how unbalanced she will be on her short legs. Her hips curve so deliciously but her waist is still small and even the roundness of her hips seems intimidating for growing bodies.

It’s odd to think of her like this. Leslie is physically small, yes, with a tiny waist that fits in his hand perfectly and a tiny nose that scrunches with adorable precision. When her bare feet touch the wood floor, she fits into him nicely, her head tucked under his chin and her short arms around his waist.

But Leslie Knope isn’t small.

Leslie is huge, she’s larger than life. She takes up space, she fills up hearts. There’s no doubt in Ben’s mind that Leslie isn’t capable of extended all of herself to three babies, to motherhood and beyond, love extending out of her chest to their three children.

Their children.

The little things that will turn into tiny humans and will be everything to them, will inspire them even farther and make them even better people, will give them even more reason to right the wrongs of this universe. The three best human beings on this Earth, the best people he will ever know, the best men and/or women in this world.

All three of them, growing inside his wife. His wife, who is so fucking small.

These thoughts translate into his motions, his daily interactions with her. He asks her if she needs anything every five minutes and when they embrace, his arms are soft around her. He doesn’t push her into a wall when things heat up between them, but instead gently pushes her away with a light kiss. It’s been days since they have had sex and he may be overreacting, but she’s carrying _triplets_ , how is he supposed to lay on top of her or push her down on the bed or run his greedy hands over her entire torso?

He notices her subtle hints that morning. Her eyes flicking to his lips and her fingertips sliding against his skin when they pass each other in the kitchen. She even wore that tiny, blue tank top that usually begs for his fingers to slip underneath. The feeling of her breasts ghosts along his fingers when he sees her walk into the living room with it on. His eyes fall to her stomach, still flat, not yet expanding, but it’s enough to make his hands busy themselves with the dishes.

In the early afternoon, Leslie is reading on the couch and when she asks him for a ginger ale, he quickly retrieves her one from the fridge.

“Thank you,” she says, a weak smile on her lips.

Her eyes flick to him and he quickly looks away, reaching for the remote. He sits down as she pops open the can.

“Your stomach still bothering you?”

Leslie shrugs and takes a sip.

Beats pass and CNN isn’t noteworthy and Ben keeps replaying numbers in his head, wonders how much they can get away with not buying because of Jerry and Ron’s kids. Leslie grabs Ben’s hand as he thinks of the inflation of college tuition and she slinks his arm around her, snuggling into his side. Her head tucks under his chin, nuzzling into his chest while her hand smooths over his belly and skims the waistband of his jeans.

His breaths increase and his body heats up. Leslie hums and it vibrates his chest and he closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair. Each muscle relaxes, one by one, and he can feel the room tilt as the pressure of Leslie’s fingers grows harder. She kneads into his hip bones and he adjust his waist to give her more room. He’s forgetting everything: numbers, babies, physical capacities, stress, decorating. All of it gone. It’s only her fingers and her breaths and vanilla and the light warmth that spreads through him.

Ben sinks into the couch, his insides light but his body heavy into the cushions. Leslie’s hand skims over his fly and he inhales, feels the jolt of arousal prickle his skin. Goosebumps rise and she pushes her palm along his length and groans, deep in her throat, a long, deep sound that he can feel in her fingers.

The zipper slowly comes undone and he’s now taking long, hard breaths. He anticipates her setting him free, her grip on his dick, the way the tips of her fingers push into the flesh and her nails graze him in the softest whisper. But her palm just rubs him, on top of his boxers, her nails touching his stomach before she pushes down again. It feels good, almost too rough, but it’s so distracting and amazing.

His fingers thread in her hair and he turns his head absently, kissing her head. She finally stops moving and delicately moves the waistband of his boxers over his dick and holds him in her hand. Ben’s hand drops and his head falls back against the couch as she moves.

It’s better than he anticipated, than he thought it would be, than he remembers. It always is. Leslie’s fingers push and her wrist twists and she moves up and down in a fantastic, slow rhythm. He breathes with each glide of her hand and his vocal chords scrape together every now and then to form something; a groan, her name, a swear. Leslie’s thumb rubs small circles on the tip of his cock and trails the pre cum down his shaft. He can feel himself on her fingers, along her palm, and she rubs it into his flesh with faster twists and sweeps.

Ben picks up his head and looks down at her. Her hair is covering her face and he sweeps her hair back, holds it against her neck so he can watch her. She chews on the side of her lip and her cheeks are a little pink and he can’t help but think of how she sometimes looks so pale lately.

That almost breaks this spell, almost makes him remember that there’s something to be thinking about besides Leslie’s touch. A few worries and recounts of bank statements go through his head but then she stops, so abrupt and startling that he blinks and looks at her fully.

She flicks her eyes to him but her gaze falls down. Her fingers grip the bottom of her tank top and she pulls and

_fuck_.

The color along her collarbone matches that of her cheeks, a fresh pink that makes his muscles shake. She stands up and turns to face him, their knees touching. Her breasts rise and fall with each breath and he tries to search her stomach for a small bump and maybe it’s there, but he also could be imagining it. Ben wonders how big she will grow, how uncomfortable she will be. He studies her belly button and thinks about how that, too, will be different.

His mind stops.

Leslie pushes her pants down, her body bending so her hair falls on his legs. She straightens and she’s lit beautifully from the afternoon light that pours into their living room. He takes in her small, pale legs, the round of her hips, the dip of her faint tan line below her belly button. He remembers her reading a book at the lake by Ron’s cabin and the sunburn he put aloe vera on in the evening. Her arms are limp by her side and her collarbone screams for him to kiss it while her eyes tear into him with want and worry.

She bends over and pulls off his shirt and tugs on his pants. He adjusts so she can pull them down and he kicks them off. She leans against the couch, her knees on the cushions, his knees against her inner thighs.

“I miss you,” she whispers and kisses his nose. His cheeks, his lips.

His stomach falls and his body feels empty and cold even though her lips are hot.

Ben finally comes to life, his hands in her hair and his lips pushing back against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and kisses her again.

She nods, their foreheads touching and noses colliding.

“I need you on my team.” Leslie grabs his left hand and spins his wedding ring with her thumb and forefinger. She places his palm on her stomach. He may be imagining the way it feels different under his palm but he doesn’t care. “On our team.”

He’s done this before, gotten caught up in other things and forgetting about her. He never did, not really, but if she’s telling him that she thinks she lost him, that’s enough. That’s enough for him to think he needs to adjust, to rethink, to stop focusing on something as minute as money. Ever since Ice Town, money has been everything. It shapes everything.

How awful.

He kisses her lips and nuzzles his face into her neck, whispering apologies against her skin as he pulls her onto his lap. His senses zero in on her stomach against his. He feels it move with her breaths as she adjusts, as her opening lining up with his dick, and her breasts smooth over his chest. Leslie sighs and holds on to his neck while he guides her closer. He breaths, she breaths, and he apologizes again, reassures her that he’s on their team, that he’s 100% on her team, his children’s team, their family’s team.

Ben silently vows to never have to remind her again, not like this.

He grips her hips as she pushes down, all the way, until he’s buried in her. They both take in a shaky breath and his falls out against her hair.

Ben runs a hand up her side and cradles her neck, rubbing her jaw with his thumb.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Leslie pulls from him, just a little and rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ben, I’m fine, obviously.” A playful smile rolls along her lips and it makes Ben feel like he’s made of air.

He holds her waist as she grinds into him. Ben stills her hips.

“Good.”

Leslie gasps as Ben picks her up from his lap and throws her on the couch, her back smashing into the cushions and her hair fanning out around her head like a cinematic masterpiece. She raises her eyebrows and bites her smile as Ben adjusts, putting her legs around his waist as he faces her, angling her hips as one foot steadies himself on the floor and his knee digs into the cushions by her hip.

He lines himself up against her and feels how wet she is, how hot she is, how perfect she is. Ben groans, impatient while needing to take her in slowly. His chest coils and tightens with his breaths and he leans over her body, kisses her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, her lips. He whispers one more apology on her tongue before sitting back up and gripping her thighs.

Ben holds her close, she gasps, and he pushes. He pulls out slowly and pushes in with the same painfully slow rock.

“I love you,” he says.

Leslie’s back arches and she groans.

“I love all of you.” His words are soft in volume but are rough in the air between them. Leslie arches again, tightening her legs to push him closer, begging for him to move faster. “I love how you feel, how you taste, and” - Leslie rolls her hips and he steadies himself, moans before he continues - “how you look, Leslie, fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Ben, please.”

He obeys, he drives into her, grips her hips so he can pound into her, holds on to her thighs that choke his hips. She’s wet and warm and everything about how she feels is euphoric.

Her hair is still fanned and gorgeous along the cushions, and her breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips. She watches him, watches his face and locks her gaze with his, looks where they are joined and spouts nonsensical words with moans of his name and swears. She tells him, “Harder,” and angles her hips so he can go deeper and, God, he just wants to be buried in her forever.

Ben flattens his hand on her lower stomach and pushes his thumb on her clit. She gasps and wiggles under his touch until he finds a fast, hard rhythm that makes her body still. He keeps his hips moving against her, groans at the sound of their bodies slapping together, marvels at the beauty of his wife.

Her sighs and moans make him build, make him speed up and push into her harder. Ben’s touch on her clit is clumsy but Leslie tightens her hold on his hips and he can feel her build, see the calm concentration on her face, and hear the small whimpers he recognizes.

Her body stretches, her back arching, and she leans her head back and he watches her throat clench with her hushed swears. He licks his lips and moves his thumb faster and says, “Cum for me, Leslie.”

Leslie clenches her mouth shut and he watches everything tense in her, feels it around his dick, until she screams, grabbing at cushions and digging the heels of her feet into his ass. She holds on to her hair and tries to muffle her groans behind her lips as he fucks her, feels her clench and pulse around his cock. He pumps and with each push she whimpers and hisses.

He wipes his thumb on her hip bone and watches her breasts bounce as he cums, emptying inside her and collapsing on top of her as he says her name, over and over.

Ben rolls over, smashing his back into the couch. He clings Leslie to him, trailing his hand through her hair and listening to the sound of his heart beat in his ears. Leslie softly breaths into his chest and falls asleep. So easily, so unlike herself.

Her body expands and contracts with her long, sleeping breaths and he still marvels at how small she is. Her feet only hit his calves and she is easy to hold in his arms. She’s going to get so big, so full. Even though she will grow and her powerful body will adapt it still seems impossible. Ben runs his hand over Leslie’s back, sweeps the entire length of her, over her shoulders, down her spine, over her ass, and back up. How can she hold the weight of their entire family? She’s so strong, yes, but there’s only so much of her.

As Leslie grows, Ben accepts that she really isn’t so small, just like he always thought. She takes on the growth of the babies with the same vigor and power and optimism she does anything. It is only when the babies are born and the nurse walks up to him with the first baby, a healthy, perfect little girl, that he thinks it again.

_But she’s so small._


End file.
